


To New Beginnings

by PoppyCartinelli



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Happy birthday Noie, Noie is lovely, and Noie is too, but the point is, may they be as successful as this past year has been!, okay it's more of implied Mirandy, they're starting new things, this is a birthday fic, this was written to reflect the new beginnings in your life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 18:26:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoppyCartinelli/pseuds/PoppyCartinelli
Summary: Andrea looks back so she can move forward.





	To New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missgrantscheerleader](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=missgrantscheerleader).



> This is a birthday fic for the lovely Noie. She is astounding and wonderful and I hope her birthday is just as fantastic as she is <3

She lasts one month. One month before she opens the newest  _ Runway _ and tears into it. It’s magnificent, of course. She lasts another month before she drops by Miranda’s only frequented public space, a highly exclusive club, but Miranda’s not there. 

It’s probably for the best. She’s done with fashion and it was just a way to break into journalism anyway. She likes journalism too. She’s good at it. It’s just… not exciting. 

She keeps going back. Dropping in for a drink, slipping past the door guard because she knows Miranda’s stare and name-drops like there’s no tomorrow. The drinks are pricey but exquisite, the music’s low and seamlessly neverending, and Nate stops asking where she’s going after the first week. He’s missed some of their Skype dates too.  

He never does show much interest in her pursuits. She’d gotten an early promotion, a bonus really, she could pick her own stories, and he’d seemed happy enough. But there wasn’t any… she still didn’t have a name for it, a description, there was just this… underwhelm-ment. Not that she can really blame him though, he’s off in Boston making increasingly better pastries. 

But it’s not just Nate, it’s underwhelm-ment with everything, really. The articles she writes are interesting and even fun sometimes but not exciting. Not exciting like, well, Paris, fashion, being near Miranda Priestly. 

All of which really isn’t something she should think about over drinks. Or think about at all with the slow music that drags out her nights until she can’t think anymore.

It’s two months before she tells Nate she needs a break, this long-distance relationship just isn’t enough. The underwhelm-ment’s getting to her, the weather not helping in the least. She spends a lot more time at work and more time at the club. 

She’s there, four months into all of this, drink in hand, when Miranda Priestly walks up to her table and sits without any preamble. She situates herself and Andy can’t find any words for a moment. It’s been too long since she’s been in Miranda’s presence and it always takes time to readjust. 

“I see you’ve been stalking me.” Miranda begins and she’s as self-centered, blunt, and good at sniffing out the truth as Andy remembered. Miranda levels a stare at her and Andy blinks.

“I see you’re still as blunt as always.” She shoots back and there’s a glint in Miranda’s eyes and Andy nearly smiles. That hasn’t happened much recently, the smile tugging at her lips, and that, even more than Miranda’s presence, stops any further words.

Miranda scoffs, rolling her eyes in that delicate manner she has. “You know how I feel about wasted time.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” She pushes her drink aside, it’s not what she’s here for. “So, I saw  _ Runway _ ’s newest edition. You really think those tiny vests are going to take off?”

All she gets is a cutting glare as Miranda takes a sip of her obscenely expensive drink. “Cut to the chase, Andrea, what are you really here for? Questioning my predictions isn’t something you care enough about.”

Busted so soon. Andy sighs and looks at her drink. “I don’t know, I-”

“Oh, please, I did not leave you as some indecisive school girl.” Miranda levels another scorching glare at her and Andy clenches her teeth. “You know exactly why you’re here.”

“Really? Firstly, I’m pretty sure I left you. Secondly,” She bites out, an irritated frown scrunching her brows. “If you know so much about me, then, why am I here?” 

“You’re bored.” Her words are like a lash and Andy flinches. Miranda smirks in victory and continues. “Nothing holds your attention anymore. Not those tiny stories you write or your average boyfriend.” 

She talks decisively enough that Andy almost can’t get a word in, can’t keep up. “Hey! My stories are fine and Nate and I… aren’t together right now.” 

Miranda leans forward minutely. She eyes Andy until Andy feels like a bug under a microscope. “But they don’t excite you, do they?”

Andy grinds her teeth before the inevitable. Miranda’s right and she hasn’t felt this energized in weeks. Oh hell, Andy sighs and her shoulders sag. “Yeah, I feel like I’ve been in some haze since Paris. Everything feels… dull.”

Miranda hums and when Andy looks up, there’s something soft in her eyes, it’s fleeting though and disappears as she reaches for her drink. “Fashion is always changing, always new, like the news. But unlike newspapers...” Miranda levels her gaze and holds Andy’s eyes like she's about to impart the wisdom of the ages. “You make fashion, you’re inside it. Newspapers just report,  _ Runway _ creates.” 

Her gaze never falters and Andy nods. It's true enough. Ridiculously over-dramatic, of course, but true. The music spills in between them while Andy thinks, she has decisions she has to make. She closes her eyes, pushes a sigh out, and meets Miranda’s gaze again. “Thank you.”

Miranda merely twitches an eyebrow and shrugs it off. She doesn’t say anything though, so Andy just watches her. She looks just as put together as always, but tired. The makeup covers most of the circles under her eyes but it’s the way she’s holding herself that gives it all away. She taps one gloriously manicured finger against her glass and huffs.

“Hmm?” Andy hums and tilts her head.

Those hazel eyes flash at her and Andy sucks in a breath. “You did leave, why?” She glares and Andy sits up a little straighter. “A two-week notice was beneath you?”

“N-no, Miranda, no.” She shakes her head and sighs. “I just-” At least she can answer this question. She’d certainly thought about it enough. “I didn’t like who I was becoming. I didn’t like how I started treating people. I guess I let it go to my head too much. I  _ am _ sorry for leaving so suddenly.” 

Miranda narrows her eyes and pushes a breath through her nose. She doesn’t reply but she’s not glaring anymore. The music settles back in around them and Andy searches for something else to say. There’s not much to ask about besides  _ Runway _ .   

“How are the divorce proceedings going?” 

This time, it’s Miranda who sighs. Her normally crisp, squared shoulders slump a little more and she pushes at her drink on the table. “He’s suing, of course, but my lawyers won’t let him have anything.” She glowers and Andy feels a chill. “He’s not getting the twins at all. He’s not good enough for them.” 

She’s not sure what possesses her, but Andy reaches out and takes Miranda’s hand. The slight condensation from her glass wets Andy's hand and Miranda levels a glower able to melt flesh, but neither pull away. The only thing that comes to mind is the truth, so Andy says it. “You're going to destroy him.”

No one should look so pacified over such a statement, but Miranda certainly isn't a nobody. She relaxes a little at that and nods. Andy asks about the twins and her shoulders relax even more.

It's almost a mystical transformation, if Andy could get over the flounce of the word ‘mystical’. But really, it reminds Andy of the exquisitely tired Miranda she talked with in Paris. It's nice.

“Would you like to meet me for drinks, like this, again?” She just blurts it out and has to stop herself from launching from the table. But, Miranda likes directness and, obviously, beating around the bush has never been Andy’s style.

Miranda blinks at her and she gets another delicate eye-roll. There's the lightest of flushes on her face that even her makeup can't cover and that's probably the alcohol but Andy can't help the smile working its way onto her lips. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

Andy almost gapes. That took no work at all, no convincing. Her heartbeat ricochets in her chest as the club music sweeps over them again, Miranda just lifts her glass to her lips. Her hand is ridiculously soft and Andy can’t help but beam and rub her thumb, just once, over Miranda’s knuckles.

She doesn’t say a thing, and maybe it’s actually a trick of the light, but Andy would swear that Miranda Priestly actually looked pleased in that moment.


End file.
